Living Truthfully

I always knew who I was. I knew that I was this rambunctious little boy who wanted nothing more than to be a Pitcher when he grew up. I’d wanted to be one of the best Left Handed Pitchers the MLB had ever seen. Until puberty hit anyway. Female Puberty. Everything changed that day. I hadn’t understood why I had to wear dresses on Sunday. Dresses that often matched my younger sisters. I hadn’t understood that I was a little girl instead of a little boy until Female Puberty entered my life at the tender age of ten years old. 

Societal views and norms dictated that I was now a young woman. Despite the fact I was only ten years old and in fourth grade. They also dictated the rest of my life. That I was going to be seen differently for simply being Female. Double Standards didn't help either. None of it mattered over time. I was going to be who I knew myself to be, to the best of my ability, regardless of what anyone said to me or about me. I was going to be who I knew myself to be. 

Religion, bigotry and hypocrisy ran rampant throughout the town I grew up in. People who were deeply religious in the Southern Baptist ways and traditions. People who rarely practiced what they preached when it came to loving others for who they are. It was the lack of genuine love toward me that led me away from everyone I knew. People who let their actions speak for them. People who proved to be Hypocritical Bigots using their religion to cherry pick from a book that often made no sense to me. 

I’d essentially gone no contact with most of the people I’d known growing up. I no longer wanted people in my life that weren’t going to love me for who I am. I’d come out as a Transgender Man. I was living as authentically as I was possibly able to. I was an Openly Closted Transgender Gay man. I was openly myself while not being able to fully be due to people that knew me. Not to mention the fact I’d be homeless otherwise. In time, I no longer cared. Not to mention walking away became easier over time. I’d walked away, quietly, from people I knew wouldn’t listen because of what their beliefs told them. 

I’d begun openly living as myself far more. I’d wanted nothing more than to get away from it all. To move on with my life. I’d not been able to do so. Something always happened when I tried leaving. Life kept making it difficult to live. Not to mention the fact things were now harder than ever before. I’d finally been able to save a little bit of money to leave. I’d been able to save a little more than expected. I didn’t care. It was more money for me to leave with. 

The fight with dad had finally happened. My open conversations of who I am weren’t something he wanted. It wasn’t something he’d understood. Others, people of faith primarily, pushed him into it. An ultimatum of sorts. That it was “just a phase” that would pass whilst knowing me most of my life and that it wasn’t a phase. That it wasn’t going to pass because of the fact I was happily living as myself. For once in my life. I’d taken the reins of my own life and living authentically as myself. Happily for once. Against the grain. Against what they believed. I’d already packed most of my things long before the fight. I’d given away or sold everything else. I’d given away the rest of what I couldn’t take or didn’t want and left. 

“Where are you gonna go?”
“Miami Beach more than likely”
“You do realize-”
“Yeah, I’m aware I’m probably going to be homeless when I get there. I’ve got a plan”
“Are you sure-”
“Yeah, I’m sure about that. Trust me, I’ve got a plan. There’s plenty of Dishwashing jobs down there I’m sure I’d be able to get something and be in a hotel until my first few checks hit my account”

Josh knew I’d planned ahead. He’d known that I knew the area well from my days partially living there. That I’d wandered around when I was homeless. That it was the best thing for me. I stayed with him until I left the next day. He’d even taken me to the bus station in Gainesville twenty minutes away. That I’d be okay. That he was welcome down anytime he wanted to come visit after I got myself into a place. He knew I’d be able to have a better life there. That I was finally free to be wholeheartedly me. 

New beginnings were on the horizon for me. New beginnings that were going to help me instead of hinder me. It felt surreal that it was actually happening. I’d been able to get into a decently sized studio apartment shortly after getting a job as a Dishwasher. I was due to work roughly thirty hours that first week alone. I didn’t mind much. I worked a total of sixty hours my first two weeks alone. I’d made far more than I’d thought. Or had ever been paid. I was comfortable in the life I’d started for myself in Miami Beach.